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The Week In Patriarchy

The Journal of Epidemiology cited working mothers as a leading factor in childhood obesity; all the unemployed fathers were, presumably, too sad to cook. New York State is this close to letting couples divorce for no reason. Or because *ahem* one person did all the cooking. Katrina Rosin likened eating meat (“carnism”) to sexism.

A Pagan reacted to Hanna Rosin’sThe End of Men” by saying that men are in a “double bind:” They’re being rendered powerless by corporate society (except, he noted, for the fact that they run corporate society), and women are becoming more equal. Luckily for men, he said, they can regain superiority equality by channeling their feminine side. Contra the American Academy of Pediatrics, Dix P. Poppas, M.D., Chief of Pediatric Urology at Children’s Hospital of New York Presbyterian, both engaged in female genital cutting and seemed to have sexually molested young girls.

Jehmu Greene, President of Women’s Media Center, was fed up with the the media’s touting the “year of the woman” since political discourse is still dominated by the “men-in-suits mindset.”  Man-in-a-suit Ross Douthat cited the rise of women in conservative politics as “a testament to the overall triumph of the women’s movement,” and we wrote about it, along with everyone else in the women’s movement. Reviews were not favorable. Perhaps indicating British humor is too dry, fashion designer Julien Macdonald found plus-size models very funny.

Topless stripper piñatas in Texas caused outrage from passers by, but were redeemed by their timeless lesson: If  you beat a woman with a stick condoms and liquor fall out. Jacksonville police officers really needed to reach their traffic ticket quota for the month; they tackled and handcuffed a woman in labor in the ER to which they chased her. Louisiana wanted to guilt-trip women out of having abortions; it contented itself by joining 15 other states in simply lecturing them.

Breastfeeding?! There’s no breastfeeding in baseball! A court official in the French town of Nancy wanted to legislate proper breast size, showing that if you name your city after a lady, you can fashion your ladies after the city’s wishes. Nancy’s Latin motto (Non inultus premor) translates to “no one touches me with impunity.” Vicky Allan made a rational call to women to stop focusing so much on breasts.

The Public Intellectual of Pretoria despised women’s displays of sexuality, objectifying women instead as not-“sexy” and not-“tempting.” And Chloe Angyal reminded us that “all women deserve to live lives free of violence,” whether or not you think they are dressed like prostitutes. Come back next week to see if anyone listened.

TALES OF TERROR: My Mild Dislike for Sex and the City 2

[Around here, we love Garland. There are a lot of reasons why we love Garland, but here is an exemplary parable: We have been talking, for weeks, about going to see the Sex and the City thing because someone HAS to write about it EVENTUALLY probably RIGHT? The Sex and the City: It has been kicked around like a sparkly pink football, around these parts. It went to me! Then it went to Silvana! Then it went back to me, sort of! Then C.L. and B. Michael were sort of suspiciously quiet throughout the whole process! And finally, one man — ONE BRAVE MAN, and also his friend Harold (hi, Harold!) (sorry, Harold) — volunteered to ride the dragon. Ride it ALL THE WAY TO HELL. You guys: Garland.]

I have a friend who has been in retail for a few years, working for several high-end fashion labels. (You know those stores in the mall that are essentially white boxes, lit like a Kubrick film, where one thin-lipped woman judges you from afar? Those.) When I met him, he was working for a company you’ve heard of. This company was enjoying a shock of popularity after having successfully made its signature handbag the must-have for the season all across the country. Even I, in my no-fashion cocoon of discount, prêt-à-porter, off-the-rack, irregular dishrags noticed the trend. I was subjected to lengthy discussions about how to tell if the bag were fake, all because I said I didn’t know what the fuss was about knock-offs. My friends set me right immediately — their bags were real, they had spent money on them. That made them special. The bags or the people, I never figured out which.

My friend told me that most of his day was spent waiting on wealthy people, but every once in a while a poor woman would walk in, harried by children, and the atmosphere of the room would change. Those rooms are designed to intimidate — I almost had a panic attack in a Chanel boutique in Houston, after having been left in a room with a man in a suit who was just staring at me — and they succeed. They make you feel very unwelcome, but can I tell you the service you get when people think you have money? Can I tell you, one night over drinks, the sort of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman experiences I’ve had?

Anyway, back to the woman. She’d buy a modestly-sized bag, pay for it with ones and tens and fives, money still wrinkled from being in a jar next to her bed. Money she had saved for herself. What was she doing with it? She was buying a ludicrous bit of fashion iconography. Did you know the word icon has religious origins? Ikons are pictures of saints. An ikon stands for something larger than itself. But a bag doesn’t stand for anything larger than itself. It is just a fucking bag.

Say it with me, Beatdown: IT IS JUST A FUCKING BAG.

(Continued)

A New Feminist’s Guide to The Movement: The Sarah Palin Welcome Wagon

[Yo! In case you have forgotten, it is STILL TIGER BEATDOWN PLEDGE DRIVING TIME. With FABULOUS PRIZES! But also, annoying reminders. About how you can send us your couch-change, and still be loved and necessary and receive gratitude, and such! During PLEDGE DRIVING TIME, things get a little wacky. For example: Two posts! In one week! By the lovely Garland! Enjoy.]

Howdy Tiger Beatdown enthusiasts!!!

If you haven’t heard, Sarah Palin is a feminist now! Which I’ve decided to view in the best possible light and write her an open letter (because she’s getting ripped to shreds everywhere else), effectively Quantum Leaping us to a timeline where she isn’t just an absolute monster!

GAWWWWWD, I hope the next leap is the leap home.

Sarah Palin,

Sarah Palin, I love to hate you. I haven’t loved to hate anyone this much since George W. Bush. And like Bush, you become more and more of a cartoon character each day. Sarah, if you had won the election I would be living in Canada right now. I would have moved to Canada,  gotten married to an architect and raised Labradoodles, I really would have.

It isn’t just that every time I hear you speak, you seem uneducated. Because you are not a dumb person. You are shrewd. Just like Lady Gaga. Both of you ladies have this ability to crawl your way to the top, elbowing everyone else out of the way with your tenacity… it is breathtaking. Everything you do seems wacky and calculated.

Sarah, we need to talk about feminism. We need to have a conversation about feminism. A long one. Because feminist isn’t a word that anyone takes lightly. Especially now, when it seems a little heroic to call yourself a feminist. Conservatives and douchebags with too many hypotheticals and too much aftershave and personal space issues have dragged that word through the mud. I know a lot of women who won’t call themselves feminists — even though they believe in total and complete equality for women.

(Continued)

A Critique of Marriage, from a Bride-to-Be

[Reminder: It is Tiger Beatdown Pledge Driving Week! Pledge driving is very exciting. Not only does it allow us to keep the lights on in Sady’s immediate vicinity, it allows us to pay Silvana, for exciting posts such as this one! Enjoy your post. Because there is a donate button at the end of it, through which you can express your sexy and anti-patriarchal appreciation.]

I’m getting married in 6 weeks.

So, it’s with great interest that I’ve been reading a lot of anti-marriage polemic that’s been floating around the internet lately. One thing I’ve consciously tried to do (and, I think, succeeded) is refrain from ever getting defensive about my choice to get married. I wrote a pretty polemical post about name changing, and a lot of of people really called me out on it. Their criticism basically amounted to: if you are so repulsed by heterosexist straight married privilege, as you claim, why the fuck are you getting married?

To which I only have to say: good point.

I admit it. I want to benefit from that privilege. I want it. I want my relationship to be regarded as extremely important by others, the way I regard it. I want assets I have to automatically pass to my spouse if I die suddenly and I haven’t thought of everything. I want to be able to take advantage of a whole pile of benefits, social, legal, and otherwise.

(Continued)

It’s Pledge Driving Time!

Yes, indeed it is! Those of you who have been reading us regularly know the drill: Once, every month, we stop and I make a long, windy, repetitive schpiel about the importance of feminist media and your donations. Then, I make a donation button, and it sort of works! And you click on it, and Tiger Beatdown continues to exist! Yayyyyyy!





Except, this time, I am not going to go for the schpiel. Because you know it already! Short version: Writing is work. On the Internet, you can enjoy people’s work for free! So many people enjoy and appreciate this free work that some places actually want people to work for free, which is bad. (I mean. Sometimes you can get good stuff done that way! It’s just bad when FEWER AND FEWER PEOPLE are getting paid, or getting paid in the Not Enough regions continually.) Because it means we have a ton of folks doing a ton of work and not seeing compensation for it. Man and/or woman cannot live on blog comments alone! Especially since there’s almost invariably a visit from Professor Comments (adjunct at Commenting University; pioneering scholar in the field of Commentology; B.A., M.A., Ph.Comments), who would like you to know that he could have written a far better, more comprehensive, and more factually correct blog post than the one you just did, except that he was busy. Telling someone else how he would have written their post. In the comment section.

Yes, it’s true: When you spend time working on something, you should get paid for it. Especially if that something is as serious and organized and in all ways professional as Tiger Beatdown. We provide a service, people! Why, I’ll have you know that I recently learned that Sofia Coppola’s next movie will star Steven Dorff, and almost immediately came up with several extremely stupid jokes playing on Sofia Coppola’s notable tendency to make movies about sad rich people and/or Sofia Coppola’s other pronounced stylistic tics and/or drawing a connection between Steven Dorff’s appearance in this motion picture and the videos by creepy/offensive comedy legend Dorf! (Dorff on Long-Ass Scenes of Staring Out the Window Regretfully. Dorff on My Millions of Dollars Make Me So Sad Inside. Dorff on the Ennui, THE ENNUI! Dorff on What Huh Why Is This Basically a Strokes Video Now. THEIR NAMES SOUND THE SAME! THE SAME! YOU NEED ME FOR THIS, PEOPLE!) But it is not just me: We are also (yay!) paying our many fine contributors now. And almost all of them take things way more seriously than I do! And have survived my numerous and annoying planning e-mails! They deserve your money! Your various $10s and $20s and oh-look-hey-I-found-this-in-my-hoodie-amounts of cash! Here is a donate button, so that you can express your appreciation for them:





See? Isn’t this more fun when I skip the schpiel? For one thing, I have more time to tell you about our FABULOUS PRIZES. Oh, did I forget to mention the FABULOUS PRIZES? Well, we have those now! You see, I figure that you deserve something for continuing to donate to the site. Something other than, you know, the site continuing to exist. Therefore, we are apportioning out a prize to the person who sends in the largest donation. The prizes will probably change from month to month, as I continue to figure out which prizes are not awful? Feel free to leave suggestions in the comment section? (No, not YOU, Professor Comments. Don’t you have a class of young and hungry would-be obnoxious blog commenters to be teaching?) This month the prize is:

TELLING ME WHAT TO DO! Yes, I know. You all thought it was impossible. Largely because I, myself, am impossible. That much is true! However, should you happen to send in the largest donation this month (we’ll keep it open until Sunday, possibly with some annoying reminders; then, the judges will confer! The judges, also, will be me! And will probably just be looking at the list of incoming donations! The judges: They have an easy job) will be able to do this thing. Tell me exactly what you want me to cover, for an entire week, and I will personally cover those things. This could be AWFUL! You could be like, “Sady. I would like you to run a series on Poop Jokes I Have Enjoyed.” You could be like, “Sady. I would like you to write exclusively about the video game Halo, which you have never even played nor do you want to.” You could be like, “Sady. I don’t like my roommate! Here are a list of her crimes! The world needs to know, Sady!” And I would probably do it. Except for the roommate thing, which is just mean. OR, you could be like, “so, could you actually cover some issues around here? Like, instead of writing about how sex tapes make you sad and puppies make you happy and you have mean things to say about this one actor’s face? Here are some issues to cover, Sady.” And I would do that, too. I am, for once in my bitter little life, opening myself up to being bossed around.

So, here you go. Here is your diabolical button of control and/or megaweapon and/or regular donate button that you can just press to donate what you can afford BUT ALSO IT COULD BE A MEGAWEAPON:





Press away! My fate is in your hands!

The Revolution Will Be Mansplained: Ross Douthat Trumpets The Triumph of Feminism

If I were to tell you that the New York Times had published something that skirted the line between outright misogyny and paternalistic smugness, you’d probably yawn. If I told you that Ross Douthat had said something mock-controversial about women, you’d probably note that I had come up with an observation of the same erudition that rain is wet and litterboxes stink. (I know. The litterbox thing seemed like a natural metaphor for a Ross Douthat column to me too.)

But ladies–and those few poor gentlemen in the room–I have news for you! Because according to Mr. Douthat, the long war of the sexes is finally over! And FEMINISM WON! YES! IT’S V-F DAY! YOU LADIES HAVE FINALLY DONE IT!

And how does Mr. Douthat know this? Because a teabagger candidate won a primary in Nevada. While female.

(Continued)

“Atlas Shrugged” Movie to Remain Faithful to Spirit of “Atlas Shrugged,” Be Terrible

OMG, you guys! Filming on the Atlas Shrugged major motion picture event has begun! Atlas Shrugged, of course, is the massively popular mid-20th century X-Men prequel in which a team of misfit billionaires endowed with mutant powers of Capitalism band together under the leadership of John Galt to defeat Communism by… running away? From it? I guess? I don’t know. For all the answers, you’d have to  read the book. Which is over a thousand pages long, with only roughly nine million of those pages being devoted to extensive and poorly informed speeches about economic policy. OR, you could take a look at my rejected screenplay! Which, fortunately, I am re-printing for you right now:

ATLAS SHRUGGED

A MOVIE

BY SADY DOYLE

WITH AYN RAND

BUT MOSTLY SADY DOYLE

ACT ONE

HANK REARDON, MULTI-MILLIONAIRE INDUSTRIALIST: Who is John Galt?

DAGNY TAGGART, MULTI-MILLIONAIRE INDUSTRIALIST/LADY: I would also like to know the answer to that question!

HANK REARDON: (Slaps DAGNY.)

DAGNY TAGGART: Ohhhh, so sexy!

ACT TWO

HANK REARDON: And yet, I still wonder: Who is John Galt?

FRANCISCO D’ANCONIA, MULTI-MILLIONAIRE INDUSTRIALIST: I know. But I won’t tell you.

DAGNY TAGGART: Damn you! I loved you once!

ACT THREE

(Flashback: A young Francisco D’Anconia and a young Dagny Taggart are in love.)

(Continued)

The Week In Patriarchy

President Obama had avoided being too patriarchal with “women and girls”–until this week. If being-the-President were being-a-freshman, he’d be carrying a ‘B’ average right now, according to the president of the National Organization for Women. Not bad for someone who rode roughshod over reproductive rights with the Stupak Amendment. Still, women don’t have a horse to hitch their wagon to: Despite much gender-normative childhood play, the Tea Party holds little appeal.

Cathy Young spoke up in a Boston Globe op-ed for the rights of feminists who don’t mind being oppressed. Responding to a piece by Jessica Valenti in the Washington Post, Young chastens readers to accept “can-do feminism that celebrates female strength” as long as it doesn’t overpower the patriarchal bearing of society, which she seems to doubt exists. Being the would-be vice presidential millstone that dragged down a once-promising presidential campaign is, of course, one of the greatest achievements a woman can make.

There was a heartwarming new parable about the struggles of a voiceless robot standing up against the Russian patriarchy. Will Self noted some of the flaws of the British “phallocentric patriarchy” in his coverage of “Rude Britannia,” a celebration of satire at the Tate Britain. Among the shortcomings of the exhibition, he says, is its focus on the “enduring male satiric supremacy.” Self starts the article by mentioning his shared dinner with a female novelist whose only notable attribute, apparently, is that she is “famously beautiful.” Maureen Dowd posited that “young women are not prey,”in response to a Fantasy Sleeping With Girls League at the swank Landon School (Motto: By Virtue, Not By Force). Points were awarded according to what “base” was reached in a boy’s sexual interaction with a given girl. Beside showing that fantasy sports geeks can get laid, the event offered more evidence for an affirmative response to Katie Baker’s recent question.

Coverage of The Stoning of Soraya M had Jill Albrechtsen down. One critic said the film took the easy out by portraying “leering archetypes of Islamic patriarchy.” Albrechtsen would rather feminists watch Soraya M than navel-gaze to Sex And The City 2. She’s such a Miranda.

Blogging about porn, a graduate student waded into the deep swamp of patriarchy without the appropriate flashlight.” South Africa’s Constitutional Court stated “the work [prostitutes] undertake devalues the respect that the Constitution regards as inherent in the human body.” There was no mention of the devaluation by lawyers of the respect people regard as inherent in practical reasoning. Red State seemed to believe that men deserve to be objectified, too. Conservative women pundits will, of course, continue to be uniformly hot.

Daily Intel revealed that Debrahlee “Hot Banker” Lorenzana wanted to be “tits on a stick,” which apparently undercuts her lawsuit against Citigroup. They said the comment casted doubt on the “authenticity of her statements.” Upcoming hypothetical coverage of the story includes “(There Is No) Pressure To Be An Attractive Female” and “Be Careful What You Wish For (If It Includes Trying To Get Ahead In Corporate America [Unless It Has To Do With Creating Sophisticated Derivates You Don’t Understand]).”

A Canadian writer and social commenter misapplied some Nietzsche. He doesn’t hate women (just feminists).

The Gloss said it was “easier than ever” to be a slave to the patriarchy. (Use slimming Spanx rather than strenuous sit-ups to flatten that tummy, ladies!) In The Atlantic, Hanna Rosin persuasively argued that biologically, economically, and educationally the “the traditional order has been upended” and patriarchy has ended. Check in next week to see if she is right.

SEXIST BEATDOWN: Stupid People I Don’t Like Deserve To Be Abused Because Feminism Edition

This week, the Feminist Blogosphere erupted in controversy, over some difficult questions that we may never find a way to answer. For example: If a stranger finds a way to look into your bedroom, against your wishes, and watches you fuck and/or get naked, whether because they wish to masturbate over you or simply because they dislike you and wish to exert some form of power over you (scorn, humiliation, control, etcetera), aren’t this stranger’s actions totally all your fault???? Okay. But what if your partner invited the stranger to look, again without your permission or knowledge, as a means of revenge, or of cutting you down a peg due to your career success, or of earning some cashy green dollars, or whatever? That is definitely all your fault, right??? I mean, you willingly dated a person who wound up betraying and abusing you! In either case, people have been known to pretend that they didn’t want such peeping to occur in the past. So if it happens to you, we can just assume that you are also pretending, and in fact all the people (and especially women) it’s happened to are just pretending, and that you therefore secretly wanted it no matter what you say to the contrary or whether you take any of the perpetrators to court, right? Anyway, do any of these questions even matter? Because even if you don’t turn out to secretly want it, it is still totally all your fault. Truly, these extremely difficult questions are perplexing to any feminist!

Wait. What’s that you say? These aren’t difficult question to answer at all? And that, in fact, the above paragraph is a pretty unambiguous description of sexual assault* and blaming the victim of a sexual assault? Sexual assault victims being people whom feminists typically place some great degree of emphasis on not blaming? Okay. So, I guess the really difficult question is, when this form of sexual assault occurs via the medium of tape and Internet download, why don’t people get this?

Spare us the outrage at how you feel sooooo betrayed, how you have no idea how this could have fallen into the wrong hands. At least Jesse James admitted that, deep down, he wanted to get caught. This whole pretext of “I didn’t really make and distribute my own little porno here” so you can give the public something that appears furtive and dirty and secret while still showing off how weird you look in night vision? Enough. And if you are actually dumb enough to make a sex tape and think it won’t get leaked, you are too dumb to ever have sex again.

Uhhhhh.

Look: Mary Elizabeth Williams (the author of the above quote; our bylines have appeared in the same place, but I can’t recall ever interacting) is not some evil victim-hating monster. She’s taking the standard line on sex tapes. (“The video prompted debates about whether news channels should air the footage and if Andrews, a statuesque blonde with rabid supporters, had encouraged her peeping tom by cultivating a ‘frat house’ fan base.” Encouraged him. The man of whose criminal stalking sentence she said, “Thirty months isn’t enough.” Encouraged him by being a sportscaster who was popular among male sports fans.) She’s taking the “OMG famewhores!” line, the “how could they be sooo stupid” line, the line that makes you look sophisticated and superior and above the crass and vulgar machinations of attention-getting, when the reality is you’re going to write about the sex tape because the thing about the sex tape is going to get pageviews because it’s your job to get pageviews (attention!) just like everybody else. The problem, I mean to say, is not with Mary Elizabeth Williams; the problem is with the standard line. Because that line completely ignores any issues having to do with consent. And, you know, that consent not being present. As bloggers, it might be our job to write stuff that people will pay attention to, but as feminists, it is pretty much our job not to just repeat the general cultural consensus when it comes to issues of consent. It’s our job to interrogate that consensus, to push it, to examine it closely and say things about it that we know will make people call us radical misandrist bitchwhores upon occasion. Because the standard line, we seem to have pretty much established, is often sexist, harmful, and just plain wrong. It’s our job to do better. Doing better: That’s kind of what feminism is about.

And now, after this afternoon’s sermon, Amanda Hess of The Sexist and I will attempt some better-doing!

(Continued)

Won’t Stop Believin’: A Gleek Turns Against the Thing He Loves

Last month marked a year since the pilot episode of Glee aired. Initial critical reception was tepid, with reviewers praising its theatrical take on high school extracurriculars but faulting its lack of dramatic substance. The show focuses on a high school show choir by the name of “New Directions”, melding the hyper reality of a musical with low-stakes emotional drama in a way Americans haven’t seen since Cop Rock. Needless to say, I’ve spent a great deal of my year watching it, and loving it, and waiting for new episodes to show up online.

This week was the season finale of Glee. The last episode, “Journey”, was a reminder of all that Glee does well. The creators of the series have bottled the zeitgeist in it’s quintessence: American Idol reminded us how much we like shows where pretty people sing, as a society we are slowly plodding our way towards acceptance of queers, and the producers cast young, vibrant actors at the pinnacle of their talents. It doesn’t hurt that the show exists in this weird Pleasantville bubble where the worst thing that can happen to you is you don’t win the big game or you get pregnant and get kicked off the cheerleading squad.

I wish I could have titled this piece “How Glee is Dissolving the Kyriarchy Through Song” or “Let’s All Go Out for Equality Slushies, Our Work Here is Done!” But I can’t. Because lately, Glee has been making me squirm. Somewhere along the way, Glee became problematic. It stopped merely depicting systemic prejudice and discrimination, and started contributing to it. And I can remember exactly when it happened.

(Continued)